without knowing how to read music, Ashley could bring her dreamlike visions to life in an extraordinary way that no art class could ever teach. Peter hoped that someday her paintings would be on display in respected galleries around the country. Where onlookers could both appreciate and be in awe of his wife’s undeniable genius.
“All right,” Ashley said to Peter when she returned. “Say cheese!”
He did. Above his lip, he had smeared chocolate icing, in the shape of a mustache.
“Yuck!” Ashley teased. “What’d you do that for?”
“Because I want to look like one of the Three Musketeers. From now on, Ash, that’s what you, the baby, and me are going to be. The Three Musketeers. ‘All for one and one for all.’”
Ashley blushed. From the bedroom, she had also fetched one of her albums. Most of the snap shots in it were of she and Peter’s wedding, as well as their honeymoon in the Bahamas.
“What’d you bring that in here for?”
“I wanted to show you this section here.” She indicated the end of the thick volume where the sheets were still blank. “These remaining pages will be reserved for all of our baby pictures. That way we’ll have our wedding recorded, our honeymoon, and everything related to the child’s birth. It’ll make this the perfect photo album. Something we’ll cherish forever.”
Peter rolled his eyes. “Women,” he joked, while indulging in the tasty dessert. “I must have married the most sentimental gal in Jersey.”
“Hey, are you picking on me?”
“Yes gorgeous. But in a good way.”
“Ha ha!”
“Hey, maybe you can also do some paintings of the baby.”
“Yeah,” she said. “I considered that.”
“You have to hun. You’re such a talented artist. I know the paintings would be awesome.”
***
About an hour passed when the phone rang. Ashley, who sat on the living room sofa, watching TV, let Peter answer it.
“Hi. What’s up?”
“Who is it?” She could not think of anyone, at this time, who might want to converse with her husband.
“My folks.”
“Oh.”
“Don’t worry. This shouldn’t take long.”
Eventually, when he clicked off, Ashley asked, “Who told your parents I was pregnant?”
“My brother.”
“You’re kidding?”
“No.”
A board-certified orthopedic surgeon, Brad Ferguson Jr. resided in Cape May with his wife Eve, and their young son Jeffery. With nearly a thirteen-year age gap between them, Peter and his sibling weren’t close. They had what Ashley had once regarded as a relationship of indifference.
“When did you speak to Brad?”
“A few minutes ago. I called his office while I was straightening the garage. So before I get into what my mom and dad said, the encouraging news is my brother, despite what a jerk he can be, told me he’s happy for us.”
“Really? That‘s somewhat surprising.”
“Yes. And next weekend, Eve invited us to dinner. They’re serving prime rib.”
“Whoa! I‘ll have to find something nice to wear.”
“Now to the bad news.”
“Bad news?” Ashley cringed and then used the remote control to turn the TV down. “What’s that?”
“My parents think you should get an abortion.”
“What?”
“I’m sorry. They think, at this early stage of our marriage, if we bring a baby into the world, it would be a huge error in judgment.”
That brought tears to Ashley’s eyes. The last thing she wanted to do was breakdown, yet she couldn’t help it. Get an abortion! How could Peter’s folks say something so mean? Why couldn’t they accept that their son wasn’t going to leave her for some rich girl, no matter what? And that it wasn’t about what they wanted, it was about what he wanted? Just because she and Peter were young, didn’t mean what they felt couldn’t be real.
“Ash,” Peter put his arm around her. “Please don’t cry. C’mon! I know it hurts hearing that. It hurts me too. But please-”
“Don’t those stupid people realize they’re
“All right,” Ashley said to Peter when she returned. “Say cheese!”
He did. Above his lip, he had smeared chocolate icing, in the shape of a mustache.
“Yuck!” Ashley teased. “What’d you do that for?”
“Because I want to look like one of the Three Musketeers. From now on, Ash, that’s what you, the baby, and me are going to be. The Three Musketeers. ‘All for one and one for all.’”
Ashley blushed. From the bedroom, she had also fetched one of her albums. Most of the snap shots in it were of she and Peter’s wedding, as well as their honeymoon in the Bahamas.
“What’d you bring that in here for?”
“I wanted to show you this section here.” She indicated the end of the thick volume where the sheets were still blank. “These remaining pages will be reserved for all of our baby pictures. That way we’ll have our wedding recorded, our honeymoon, and everything related to the child’s birth. It’ll make this the perfect photo album. Something we’ll cherish forever.”
Peter rolled his eyes. “Women,” he joked, while indulging in the tasty dessert. “I must have married the most sentimental gal in Jersey.”
“Hey, are you picking on me?”
“Yes gorgeous. But in a good way.”
“Ha ha!”
“Hey, maybe you can also do some paintings of the baby.”
“Yeah,” she said. “I considered that.”
“You have to hun. You’re such a talented artist. I know the paintings would be awesome.”
***
About an hour passed when the phone rang. Ashley, who sat on the living room sofa, watching TV, let Peter answer it.
“Hi. What’s up?”
“Who is it?” She could not think of anyone, at this time, who might want to converse with her husband.
“My folks.”
“Oh.”
“Don’t worry. This shouldn’t take long.”
Eventually, when he clicked off, Ashley asked, “Who told your parents I was pregnant?”
“My brother.”
“You’re kidding?”
“No.”
A board-certified orthopedic surgeon, Brad Ferguson Jr. resided in Cape May with his wife Eve, and their young son Jeffery. With nearly a thirteen-year age gap between them, Peter and his sibling weren’t close. They had what Ashley had once regarded as a relationship of indifference.
“When did you speak to Brad?”
“A few minutes ago. I called his office while I was straightening the garage. So before I get into what my mom and dad said, the encouraging news is my brother, despite what a jerk he can be, told me he’s happy for us.”
“Really? That‘s somewhat surprising.”
“Yes. And next weekend, Eve invited us to dinner. They’re serving prime rib.”
“Whoa! I‘ll have to find something nice to wear.”
“Now to the bad news.”
“Bad news?” Ashley cringed and then used the remote control to turn the TV down. “What’s that?”
“My parents think you should get an abortion.”
“What?”
“I’m sorry. They think, at this early stage of our marriage, if we bring a baby into the world, it would be a huge error in judgment.”
That brought tears to Ashley’s eyes. The last thing she wanted to do was breakdown, yet she couldn’t help it. Get an abortion! How could Peter’s folks say something so mean? Why couldn’t they accept that their son wasn’t going to leave her for some rich girl, no matter what? And that it wasn’t about what they wanted, it was about what he wanted? Just because she and Peter were young, didn’t mean what they felt couldn’t be real.
“Ash,” Peter put his arm around her. “Please don’t cry. C’mon! I know it hurts hearing that. It hurts me too. But please-”
“Don’t those stupid people realize they’re
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